


Take Me by the Hand

by J (j_writes)



Category: Easy Allies RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Battle of the Bands, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-29 05:48:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8477653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_writes/pseuds/J
Summary: The days blur by in a haze of dust kicked up under van tires, roadside diner after neon motel sign after end of the line gas station after wrong turn.





	

**Author's Note:**

> [fictional characters based on the internet personas of actual people, doing entirely fictional things.]

The days blur by in a haze of dust kicked up under van tires, roadside diner after neon motel sign after end of the line gas station after wrong turn, but it’s worth it for the nights, for the feeling of the strings under his fingers, the almost-harmony of their instruments beneath the dull roar of the crowd, the contrast of dark fingernails against pale skin around a black microphone under stark stage lights.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

The words come out backstage, Ian’s fingers light against his chin, tilting his face as she carefully puts on his makeup, and maybe there’s some perverse lack of self-preservation that makes him say them at that moment, eyeliner millimeters from his eye, but she doesn’t start, doesn’t jolt, just calmly finishes marking a solid line across his eyelid, lip still caught in her teeth in concentration.

“I think I’m in love with you,” Ben repeats, “and that scares me half to death.”

“Me too,” Ian replies, and she pulls back to inspect her work, her fingers shifting Ben’s face to the side before nodding in satisfaction.

“You're…scared?” Ben asks, already looking past her for the exit signs, planning how he can possibly flee this situation, wondering if he’ll burn every bridge he’s ever built by walking out on one of Brandon’s gigs, but Ian’s lips are curving into a smile, like he hasn’t just done the dumbest thing in his entire life, or maybe like he has and she finds it somehow endearing.

“That too,” she agrees, and when she fits her lips to his, it’s an echo of all the nights they’ve spent tangled together between messy hotel room sheets, all the car rides with her legs tossed over his lap, all the shows in all the venues where he’ll look up from his strings to find her there in his space, tipping his hat back, singing against his skin like she’s trying to press the words into him.

“I _know_ I’m in love with you,” she says as she pulls away, wrapping her fingers into his and dragging him forward, his feet feeling numb and stumbling under him. “And that scares me pretty much entirely to death.” The crowd is roaring behind her as she steps backward onto the stage. “Fucking beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he agrees vaguely. _You are._ "It is,“ and he follows her into the haze of the stage lights.


End file.
